Chapter 32

King Lamedon, which deide thus, He hadde a Sone, on Priamus, Which was noght thilke time at hom: Bot whan he herde of this, he com, And fond hou the Cite was falle, Which he began anon to walle 7230 And made ther a cite newe, That thei whiche othre londes knewe Tho seiden, that of lym and Ston In al the world so fair was non. And on that o side of the toun The king let maken Ylioun, That hihe Tour, that stronge place, Which was adrad of no manace Of quarel nor of non engin; And thogh men wolde make a Myn, 7240 No mannes craft it mihte aproche, For it was sett upon a roche. The walles of the toun aboute, Hem stod of al the world no doute, And after the proporcion Sex gates weren of the toun Of such a forme, of such entaile, That hem to se was gret mervaile: The diches weren brode and depe, A fewe men it mihte kepe 7250 From al the world, as semeth tho, Bot if the goddes weren fo. Gret presse unto that cite drouh, So that ther was of poeple ynouh, Of Burgeis that therinne duellen; Ther mai no mannes tunge tellen Hou that cite was riche of good.

Whan al was mad and al wel stod, King Priamus tho him bethoghte What thei of Grece whilom wroghte, 7260 And what was of her swerd devoured, And hou his Soster deshonoured With Thelamon awey was lad: And so thenkende he wax unglad, And sette anon a parlement, To which the lordes were assent. In many a wise ther was spoke, Hou that thei mihten ben awroke, Bot ate laste natheles Thei seiden alle, “Acord and pes.” 7270 To setten either part in reste It thoghte hem thanne for the beste With resonable amendement; And thus was Anthenor forth sent To axe Esionam ayein And witen what thei wolden sein. So passeth he the See be barge To Grece forto seie his charge, The which he seide redely Unto the lordes by and by: 7280 Bot where he spak in Grece aboute, He herde noght bot wordes stoute, And nameliche of Thelamon; The maiden wolde he noght forgon, He seide, for no maner thing, And bad him gon hom to his king, For there gat he non amende For oght he couthe do or sende.

This Anthenor ayein goth hom Unto his king, and whan he com, 7290 He tolde in Grece of that he herde, And hou that Thelamon ansuerde, And hou thei were at here above, That thei wol nouther pes ne love, Bot every man schal don his beste. Bot for men sein that nyht hath reste, The king bethoghte him al that nyht, And erli, whan the dai was lyht, He tok conseil of this matiere; And thei acorde in this manere, 7300 That he withouten eny lette A certein time scholde sette Of Parlement to ben avised: And in the wise it was devised, Of parlement he sette a day, And that was in the Monthe of Maii. This Priamus hadde in his yhte A wif, and Hecuba sche hyhte, Be whom that time ek hadde he Of Sones fyve, and douhtres thre 7310 Besiden hem, and thritty mo, And weren knyhtes alle tho, Bot noght upon his wif begete, Bot elles where he myhte hem gete Of wommen whiche he hadde knowe; Such was the world at thilke throwe: So that he was of children riche, As therof was noman his liche.

Of Parlement the dai was come, Ther ben the lordes alle and some; 7320 Tho was pronounced and pourposed, And al the cause hem was desclosed, Hou Anthenor in Grece ferde. Thei seten alle stille and herde, And tho spak every man aboute: Ther was alegged many a doute, And many a proud word spoke also; Bot for the moste part as tho Thei wisten noght what was the beste, Or forto werre or forto reste. 7330 Bot he that was withoute fere, Hector, among the lordes there His tale tolde in such a wise, And seide, “Lordes, ye ben wise, Ye knowen this als wel as I, Above all othre most worthi Stant nou in Grece the manhode Of worthinesse and of knihthode; For who so wole it wel agrope, To hem belongeth al Europe, 7340 Which is the thridde parti evene Of al the world under the hevene; And we be bot of folk a fewe. So were it reson forto schewe The peril, er we falle thrinne: Betre is to leve, than beginne Thing which as mai noght ben achieved; He is noght wys that fint him grieved, And doth so that his grief be more; For who that loketh al tofore 7350 And wol noght se what is behinde, He mai fulofte hise harmes finde: Wicke is to stryve and have the worse. We have encheson forto corse, This wot I wel, and forto hate The Greks; bot er that we debate With hem that ben of such a myht, It is ful good that every wiht Be of himself riht wel bethoght. Bot as for me this seie I noght; 7360 For while that mi lif wol stonde, If that ye taken werre on honde, Falle it to beste or to the werste, I schal miselven be the ferste To grieven hem, what evere I may. I wol noght ones seie nay To thing which that youre conseil demeth, For unto me wel more it quemeth The werre certes than the pes; Bot this I seie natheles, 7370 As me belongeth forto seie. Nou schape ye the beste weie.”

Whan Hector hath seid his avis, Next after him tho spak Paris, Which was his brother, and alleide What him best thoghte, and thus he seide: “Strong thing it is to soffre wrong, And suffre schame is more strong, Bot we have suffred bothe tuo; And for al that yit have we do 7380 What so we mihte to reforme The pes, whan we in such a forme Sente Anthenor, as ye wel knowe. And thei here grete wordes blowe Upon her wrongful dedes eke; And who that wole himself noght meke To pes, and list no reson take, Men sein reson him wol forsake: For in the multitude of men Is noght the strengthe, for with ten 7390 It hath be sen in trew querele Ayein an hundred false dele, And had the betre of goddes grace. This hath befalle in many place; And if it like unto you alle, I wolde assaie, hou so it falle, Oure enemis if I mai grieve; For I have cawht a gret believe Upon a point I wol declare.

This ender day, as I gan fare 7400 To hunte unto the grete hert, Which was tofore myn houndes stert, And every man went on his syde Him to poursuie, and I to ryde Began the chace, and soth to seie, Withinne a while out of mi weie I rod, and nyste where I was. And slep me cauhte, and on the gras Beside a welle I lay me doun To slepe, and in a visioun 7410 To me the god Mercurie cam; Goddesses thre with him he nam, Minerve, Venus and Juno, And in his hond an Appel tho He hield of gold with lettres write: And this he dede me to wite, Hou that thei putt hem upon me, That to the faireste of hem thre Of gold that Appel scholde I yive. With ech of hem tho was I schrive, 7420 And echon faire me behihte; Bot Venus seide, if that sche mihte That Appel of mi yifte gete, Sche wolde it neveremor foryete, And seide hou that in Grece lond Sche wolde bringe unto myn hond Of al this Erthe the faireste; So that me thoghte it for the beste, To hire and yaf that Appel tho. Thus hope I wel, if that I go, 7430 That sche for me wol so ordeine, That thei matiere forto pleigne Schul have, er that I come ayein. Nou have ye herd that I wol sein: Sey ye what stant in youre avis.” And every man tho seide his, And sundri causes thei recorde, Bot ate laste thei acorde That Paris schal to Grece wende, And thus the parlement tok ende. 7440

Cassandra, whan sche herde of this, The which to Paris Soster is, Anon sche gan to wepe and weile, And seide, “Allas, what mai ous eile? Fortune with hire blinde whiel Ne wol noght lete ous stonde wel: For this I dar wel undertake, That if Paris his weie take, As it is seid that he schal do, We ben for evere thanne undo.” 7450 This, which Cassandre thanne hihte, In al the world as it berth sihte, In bokes as men finde write, Is that Sibille of whom ye wite, That alle men yit clepen sage. Whan that sche wiste of this viage, Hou Paris schal to Grece fare, No womman mihte worse fare Ne sorwe more than sche dede; And riht so in the same stede 7460 Ferde Helenus, which was hir brother, Of prophecie and such an other: And al was holde bot a jape, So that the pourpos which was schape, Or were hem lief or were hem loth, Was holde, and into Grece goth This Paris with his retenance. And as it fell upon his chance, Of Grece he londeth in an yle, And him was told the same whyle 7470 Of folk which he began to freyne, Tho was in thyle queene Heleyne, And ek of contres there aboute Of ladis many a lusti route, With mochel worthi poeple also. And why thei comen theder tho, The cause stod in such a wise,— For worschipe and for sacrifise That thei to Venus wolden make, As thei tofore hadde undertake, 7480 Some of good will, some of beheste, For thanne was hire hihe feste Withinne a temple which was there.

Whan Paris wiste what thei were, Anon he schop his ordinance To gon and don his obeissance To Venus on hire holi day, And dede upon his beste aray. With gret richesse he him behongeth, As it to such a lord belongeth, 7490 He was noght armed natheles, Bot as it were in lond of pes, And thus he goth forth out of Schipe And takth with him his felaschipe: In such manere as I you seie Unto the temple he hield his weie.

Tydinge, which goth overal To grete and smale, forth withal Com to the queenes Ere and tolde Hou Paris com, and that he wolde 7500 Do sacrifise to Venus: And whan sche herde telle thus, Sche thoghte, hou that it evere be, That sche wole him abyde and se.

Forth comth Paris with glad visage Into the temple on pelrinage, Wher unto Venus the goddesse He yifth and offreth gret richesse, And preith hir that he preie wolde. And thanne aside he gan beholde, 7510 And sih wher that this ladi stod; And he forth in his freisshe mod Goth ther sche was and made her chiere, As he wel couthe in his manere, That of his wordes such plesance Sche tok, that al hire aqueintance, Als ferforth as the herte lay, He stal er that he wente away. So goth he forth and tok his leve, And thoghte, anon as it was eve, 7520 He wolde don his Sacrilegge, That many a man it scholde abegge.

Whan he to Schipe ayein was come, To him he hath his conseil nome, And al devised the matiere In such a wise as thou schalt hiere. Withinne nyht al prively His men he warneth by and by, That thei be redy armed sone For certein thing which was to done: 7530 And thei anon ben redi alle, And ech on other gan to calle, And went hem out upon the stronde And tok a pourpos ther alonde Of what thing that thei wolden do, Toward the temple and forth thei go. So fell it, of devocion Heleine in contemplacion With many an other worthi wiht Was in the temple and wok al nyht, 7540 To bidde and preie unto thymage Of Venus, as was thanne usage; So that Paris riht as him liste Into the temple, er thei it wiste, Com with his men al sodeinly, And alle at ones sette ascry In hem whiche in the temple were, For tho was mochel poeple there; Bot of defense was no bote, So soffren thei that soffre mote. 7550

Paris unto the queene wente, And hire in bothe hise armes hente With him and with his felaschipe, And forth thei bere hire unto Schipe. Up goth the Seil and forth thei wente, And such a wynd fortune hem sente, Til thei the havene of Troie cauhte; Where out of Schipe anon thei strauhte And gon hem forth toward the toun, The which cam with processioun 7560 Ayein Paris to sen his preie. And every man began to seie To Paris and his felaschipe Al that thei couthen of worschipe; Was non so litel man in Troie, That he ne made merthe and joie Of that Paris hath wonne Heleine. Bot al that merthe is sorwe and peine To Helenus and to Cassaundre; For thei it token schame and sklaundre 7570 And lost of al the comun grace, That Paris out of holi place Be Stelthe hath take a mannes wif, Wherof that he schal lese his lif And many a worthi man therto, And al the Cite be fordo, Which nevere schal be mad ayein. And so it fell, riht as thei sein, The Sacrilege which he wroghte Was cause why the Gregois soughte 7580 Unto the toun and it beleie, And wolden nevere parte aweie, Til what be sleihte and what be strengthe Thei hadde it wonne in brede and lengthe, And brent and slayn that was withinne. Now se, mi Sone, which a sinne Is Sacrilege in holy stede: Be war therfore and bidd thi bede, And do nothing in holy cherche, Bot that thou miht be reson werche. 7590

And ek tak hiede of Achilles, Whan he unto his love ches Polixena, that was also In holi temple of Appollo, Which was the cause why he dyde And al his lust was leyd asyde.

And Troilus upon Criseide Also his ferste love leide In holi place, and hou it ferde, As who seith, al the world it herde; 7600 Forsake he was for Diomede, Such was of love his laste mede.

Forthi, mi Sone, I wolde rede, Be this ensample as thou myht rede, Sech elles, wher thou wolt, thi grace, And war the wel in holi place What thou to love do or speke, In aunter if it so be wreke As thou hast herd me told before. And tak good hiede also therfore 7610 Upon what forme, of Avarice Mor than of eny other vice, I have divided in parties The branches, whiche of compainies Thurghout the world in general Ben nou the leders overal, Of Covoitise and of Perjure, Of fals brocage and of Usure, Of Skarsnesse and Unkindeschipe, Which nevere drouh to felaschipe, 7620 Of Robberie and privi Stelthe, Which don is for the worldes welthe, Of Ravine and of Sacrilegge, Which makth the conscience agregge; Althogh it mai richesse atteigne, It floureth, bot it schal noght greine Unto the fruit of rihtwisnesse. Bot who that wolde do largesse Upon the reule as it is yive, So myhte a man in trouthe live 7630 Toward his god, and ek also Toward the world, for bothe tuo Largesse awaiteth as belongeth, To neither part that he ne wrongeth; He kepth himself, he kepth his frendes, So stant he sauf to bothe hise endes, That he excedeth no mesure, So wel he can himself mesure: Wherof, mi Sone, thou schalt wite, So as the Philosophre hath write. 7640

Betwen the tuo extremites Of vice stant the propretes Of vertu, and to prove it so Tak Avarice and tak also The vice of Prodegalite; Betwen hem Liberalite, Which is the vertu of Largesse, Stant and governeth his noblesse. For tho tuo vices in discord Stonde evere, as I finde of record; 7650 So that betwen here tuo debat Largesse reuleth his astat. For in such wise as Avarice, As I tofore have told the vice, Thurgh streit holdinge and thurgh skarsnesse Stant in contraire to Largesse, Riht so stant Prodegalite Revers, bot noght in such degre. For so as Avarice spareth, And forto kepe his tresor careth, 7660 That other al his oghne and more Ayein the wise mannes lore Yifth and despendeth hiere and there, So that him reccheth nevere where. While he mai borwe, he wol despende, Til ate laste he seith, “I wende”; Bot that is spoken al to late, For thanne is poverte ate gate And takth him evene be the slieve, For erst wol he no wisdom lieve. 7670 And riht as Avarice is Sinne, That wolde his tresor kepe and winne, Riht so is Prodegalite: Bot of Largesse in his degre, Which evene stant betwen the tuo, The hihe god and man also The vertu ech of hem commendeth. For he himselven ferst amendeth, That overal his name spredeth, And to alle othre, where it nedeth, 7680 He yifth his good in such a wise, That he makth many a man arise, Which elles scholde falle lowe. Largesce mai noght ben unknowe; For what lond that he regneth inne, It mai noght faile forto winne Thurgh his decerte love and grace, Wher it schal faile in other place.

And thus betwen tomoche and lyte Largesce, which is noght to wyte, 7690 Halt evere forth the middel weie: Bot who that torne wole aweie Fro that to Prodegalite, Anon he lest the proprete Of vertu and goth to the vice; For in such wise as Avarice Lest for scarsnesse his goode name, Riht so that other is to blame, Which thurgh his wast mesure excedeth, For noman wot what harm that bredeth. 7700

Bot mochel joie ther betydeth, Wher that largesse an herte guydeth: For his mesure is so governed, That he to bothe partz is lerned, To god and to the world also, He doth reson to bothe tuo. The povere folk of his almesse Relieved ben in the destresse Of thurst, of hunger and of cold; The yifte of him was nevere sold, 7710 Bot frely yive, and natheles The myhti god of his encress Rewardeth him of double grace; The hevene he doth him to pourchace And yifth him ek the worldes good: And thus the Cote for the hod Largesse takth, and yit no Sinne He doth, hou so that evere he winne.

What man hath hors men yive him hors, And who non hath of him no fors, 7720 For he mai thanne on fote go; The world hath evere stonde so. Bot forto loken of the tweie, A man to go the siker weie, Betre is to yive than to take: With yifte a man mai frendes make, Bot who that takth or gret or smal, He takth a charge forth withal, And stant noght fre til it be quit. So forto deme in mannes wit, 7730 It helpeth more a man to have His oghne good, than forto crave Of othre men and make him bounde, Wher elles he mai stonde unbounde.

Senec conseileth in this wise, And seith, “Bot, if thi good suffise Unto the liking of thi wille, Withdrawh thi lust and hold the stille, And be to thi good sufficant.” For that thing is appourtenant 7740 To trouthe and causeth to be fre After the reule of charite, Which ferst beginneth of himselve. For if thou richest othre tuelve, Wherof thou schalt thiself be povere, I not what thonk thou miht recovere.

Whil that a man hath good to yive, With grete routes he mai live And hath his frendes overal, And everich of him telle schal. 7750 Therwhile he hath his fulle packe, Thei seie, “A good felawe is Jacke”; Bot whanne it faileth ate laste, Anon his pris thei overcaste, For thanne is ther non other lawe Bot, “Jacke was a good felawe.” Whan thei him povere and nedy se, Thei lete him passe and farwel he; Al that he wende of compainie Is thanne torned to folie. 7760

Bot nou to speke in other kinde Of love, a man mai suche finde, That wher thei come in every route Thei caste and waste her love aboute, Til al here time is overgon, And thanne have thei love non: For who that loveth overal, It is no reson that he schal Of love have eny proprete. Forthi, mi Sone, avise thee 7770 If thou of love hast be to large, For such a man is noght to charge: And if it so be that thou hast Despended al thi time in wast And set thi love in sondri place, Though thou the substance of thi grace Lese ate laste, it is no wonder; For he that put himselven under, As who seith, comun overal, He lest the love special 7780 Of eny on, if sche be wys; For love schal noght bere his pris Be reson, whanne it passeth on. So have I sen ful many on, That were of love wel at ese, Whiche after felle in gret desese Thurgh wast of love, that thei spente In sondri places wher thei wente.

Riht so, mi Sone, I axe of thee If thou with Prodegalite 7790 Hast hier and ther thi love wasted.

Mi fader, nay; bot I have tasted In many a place as I have go, And yit love I nevere on of tho, Bot forto drive forth the dai. For lieveth wel, myn herte is ay Withoute mo for everemore Al upon on, for I nomore Desire bot hire love al one: So make I many a prive mone, 7800 For wel I fiele I have despended Mi longe love and noght amended Mi sped, for oght I finde yit. If this be wast to youre wit Of love, and Prodegalite, Nou, goode fader, demeth ye: Bot of o thing I wol me schryve, That I schal for no love thryve, Bot if hirself me wol relieve.

Mi Sone, that I mai wel lieve: 7810 And natheles me semeth so, For oght that thou hast yit misdo Of time which thou hast despended, It mai with grace ben amended. For thing which mai be worth the cost Per chaunce is nouther wast ne lost; For what thing stant on aventure, That can no worldes creature Telle in certein hou it schal wende, Til he therof mai sen an ende. 7820 So that I not as yit therfore If thou, mi Sone, hast wonne or lore: For ofte time, as it is sene, Whan Somer hath lost al his grene And is with Wynter wast and bare, That him is left nothing to spare, Al is recovered in a throwe; The colde wyndes overblowe, And still be the scharpe schoures, And soudeinliche ayein his floures 7830 The Somer hapneth and is riche: And so per cas thi graces liche, Mi Sone, thogh thou be nou povere Of love, yit thou miht recovere.

Mi fader, certes grant merci: Ye have me tawht so redeli, That evere whil I live schal The betre I mai be war withal Of thing which ye have seid er this. Bot overmore hou that it is, 7840 Toward mi schrifte as it belongeth, To wite of othre pointz me longeth; Wherof that ye me wolden teche With al myn herte I you beseche.

Explicit Liber Quintus.

Incipit Liber Sextus

_Est gula, que nostrum maculavit prima parentem Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo Hec agit, ut corpus anime contraria spirat, Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer. Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur, Potibus ebrietas conviciata ruit. Mersa sopore labis, que Bachus inebriat hospes, Indignata Venus oscula raro premit._

The grete Senne original, Which every man in general Upon his berthe hath envenymed, In Paradis it was mystymed: Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot, His swete morscel was to hot, Which dedly made the mankinde. And in the bokes as I finde, This vice, which so out of rule Hath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule; 10 Of which the branches ben so grete, That of hem alle I wol noght trete, Bot only as touchende of tuo I thenke speke and of no mo; Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe, Which berth the cuppe felaschipe. Ful many a wonder doth this vice, He can make of a wisman nyce, And of a fool, that him schal seme That he can al the lawe deme, 20 And yiven every juggement Which longeth to the firmament Bothe of the sterre and of the mone; And thus he makth a gret clerk sone Of him that is a lewed man. Ther is nothing which he ne can, Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde, He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde, He is a noble man of armes, And yit no strengthe is in his armes: 30 Ther he was strong ynouh tofore, With Dronkeschipe it is forlore, And al is changed his astat, And wext anon so fieble and mat, That he mai nouther go ne come, Bot al togedre him is benome The pouer bothe of hond and fot, So that algate abide he mot. And alle hise wittes he foryet, The which is to him such a let, 40 That he wot nevere what he doth, Ne which is fals, ne which is soth, Ne which is dai, ne which is nyht, And for the time he knowth no wyht, That he ne wot so moche as this, What maner thing himselven is, Or he be man, or he be beste. That holde I riht a sori feste, Whan he that reson understod So soudeinliche is woxe wod, 50 Or elles lich the dede man, Which nouther go ne speke can. Thus ofte he is to bedde broght, Bot where he lith yit wot he noght, Til he arise upon the morwe; And thanne he seith, “O, which a sorwe It is a man be drinkeles!” So that halfdrunke in such a res With dreie mouth he sterte him uppe, And seith, “Nou _baillez ça_ the cuppe.” 60 That made him lese his wit at eve Is thanne a morwe al his beleve; The cuppe is al that evere him pleseth, And also that him most deseseth; It is the cuppe whom he serveth, Which alle cares fro him kerveth And alle bales to him bringeth: In joie he wepth, in sorwe he singeth, For Dronkeschipe is so divers, It may no whyle stonde in vers. 70 He drinkth the wyn, bot ate laste The wyn drynkth him and bint him faste, And leith him drunke be the wal, As him which is his bonde thral And al in his subjeccion.